


Tumblr Prompts ⋆

by Idnis



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Babysitting, Comfort, Greek Mythology - Freeform, High School, Kissing, M/M, Moulin Rouge AU, Pillow Fights, Tumblr Prompts, artist Neil, artist!AU, beach, icarus - Freeform, moulin rouge - Freeform, photographer Andrew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-03-29 14:34:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13929090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idnis/pseuds/Idnis
Summary: Chapter 1 [Can I kiss you?]Chapter 2 [I can’t do this anymore.] & [What do you want me to say?]  Icarus mythChapter 3 [I'm going for a swim. Do you wanna join me?]Chapter 4 [PILLOW FIGHT!]Chapter 5 [There was never a choice.] High School!auChapter 6 [I can't stand the thought of losing you.]Chapter 7 [Why the hell are you bleeding.] babysittingChapter 8 [I need you to leave.] artist!auChapter 9 [Teach me to fight.] Moulin Rouge! au





	1. Can I kiss you?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovely people!
> 
> While I'm working on a bigger andreil fic, I decided to do some drabbling in between to warm myself up, or challenge myself I guess? 
> 
> These are still mostly drabbles though, so sorry if they're a little rough.  
> They're a whole lotta fun to write though!
> 
> Enjoy!

  
All his life, Neil had thought change was good.  
Change was perfect actually,  
because it kept him alive.   
  
But then came the foxes, Palmetto State, his dormroom with Matt and later with Andrew (and Kevin).  
But then came mornings spent eating breakfast with Andrew, watching him make them both a cup of coffee,  
sometimes even another when they really needed it, when they’d stayed up way too late last night,  
smoking,  
talking,  
kissing.  
  
But then Neil found himself retracing the key’s pattern in the palm of his hand,  
on Andrew’s bare arm,  
in his notebook when the class was too boring,  
and he wondered  
if maybe change wouldn’t be so great after all.  
  
x  
  
‘I don’t know-’ Neil started, then stopped himself. ‘It’s just-’

He struggled to find the right words.  
It made Andrew look up from his place on the couch.  
  
‘You’ll be gone next year,’ Neil said, shrugging a little helplessly.  
  
He felt stupid standing in the middle of the room, but sitting down might give the impression he wanted a Big Talk.  
  
Andrew took his insecurity away by standing up,  
moving in front of him.  
  
His eyes stared into Neil’s.  
  
‘I want you to have a future, wherever that is,’ Neil said, ‘But I also want it to be with me. Is that selfish?’  
  
‘Yes,’ Andrew answered, reaching out, grabbing Neil’s neck and pulling his head down until their foreheads were touching.  
  
‘Sorry,’ Neil said.  
  
He stared back at Andrew.  
  
The grip on his neck was steadying, like it always had been.  
But that would be gone too, wouldn’t it?  
That would change too.  
  
Andrew ignored his apology.

‘Sometimes,’ Andrew said instead, trailing a finger down Neil’s neck. ‘I want to leave bruises. Here.’ He tapped his finger against Neil’s neck.

Neil swallowed.

‘That would be oka-’  
  
‘Is that selfish?’ Andrew asked.  
  
Oh.  
  
‘Yes,’ Neil answered  
and smiled.  
  
x  
  
There were lots of changes.  
  
But there were also lots of visits,  
and a few bruises.  
  
x  
  
‘I’m definitely not going to miss our discussions,’ Neil said.

Kevin glared at him.  
‘They were for your own good.’

‘I appreciate your sacrifice,’ Neil said. ‘You really, _really_ shouldn’t have.’

But then, instead of replying, Kevin looked around hesitatingly, almost awkwardly,  
and Neil knew they both didn’t like the change.

‘Wait for me,’ he said.

‘I will,’ Kevin promised.  
  
x  
  
‘Wait for me,’ Neil said, running after Andrew, who’d taken off as soon as they’d parked the car. ‘You’re impatient today.'  
  
Andrew didn’t respond, just shoved his hands inside his pockets and walked up to the building.  
  
‘Is it big? Clean?’ Neil asked, while Andrew opened the door with a new key.  
  
‘Does it have a view? Nicky really wanted to know,’ Neil said, while they were walking up the unfamiliar stairs.  
  
Instead of replying, Andrew stopped in front of a new door, opening it with another new key.  
  
So many things were new,  
so many changes.  
  
Changes he’d wanted for years, but  
being the captain, leading his foxes to victory, was a heady, addicting feeling  
and the thought that he wouldn’t anymore was almost nauseating.  
How could he leave them behind?  
  
The change felt almost too difficult,  
until Neil followed Andrew into the apartment.  
  
Looking around, Neil didn’t see whether it was big or small or clean or what kind of view they had.  
He saw a future.  
  
‘When are we going to move?’

Andrew looked at him.  
‘You’re impatient today.’

Neil smiled.  
‘I’ve been waiting for years.’

‘Don’t be stupid,’ Andrew said.

Neil wandered through the empty apartment.  
It felt weird and wonderful  
and Neil imagined what it would be like to live here with Andrew.

Different, definitely.  
It would be a big change.

But Neil didn’t think it would be bad.

He walked back into the living room, or the room he assumed was going to be the living room, and saw that Andrew had opened a window. He was leaning out of it.  
  
‘Can you smoke inside?’  Neil asked, moving next to him.  
  
‘I can.’  
  
It was a thing that never changed.  
Neil smiled.  
  
‘Are we _allowed_ to smoke inside?’ he changed his question.

‘No.’

Neil looked out of the window and saw that the view was just a street, just a few other houses.  
Not that great, but it wasn’t important anyway.  
He didn’t understand Nicky sometimes.

‘Is there a rooftop here?’ he asked.

‘Not one we can get to.’  
  
‘How are you going to get your fix then?’ he teased Andrew.  
  
But Andrew stared almost unseeingly out the window as he replied,  
‘I don’t need that to feel.’

It could be Andrew arguing.  
But Andrew’s arm had touched Neil’s briefly,  
and Neil knew it was a reminder of another thing that had changed.

‘Can I kiss you?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ Andrew answered immediately.

Though it wasn’t really a mattered of who kissed who.  
  
Because they turned towards each other,  
they both leaned closer.  
  
A spark of heat  
and excitement  
shot through Neil’s body at the touch, and he let Andrew pull him closer, let him deepen their kiss.  
  
The quiet intensity of their kiss told Neil he hadn’t been the only one waiting for this change.  
  
Their lips moved together in a way that made Neil almost dizzy.  
  
Kissing Andrew was always new and familiar.

It was a thing that couldn’t possibly be the same,  
must be changing all the time.  
  
And it was perfect actually.  
  
x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading ♡♡
> 
> Let me know what you thought, if you want!


	2. I can't do this anymore. & What do you want me to say?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this idea has stuck with me when reading the prompted sentences.  
> It’s a little different than usual, but I hope you still like it.

  
The boy didn’t have a lot of things to live for, truth be told.   
  
There weren’t any parents, never had been for all he cared. There was just a man that forced him to work, that made him lift and carry all the heavy metals and equipment in his workshop. It wasn’t nice, but the boy was used to not nice and the work made him stronger. Strong enough to fight off the people that visited him at night.  
  
The streets weren’t a good place for the boy to sleep, let alone grow up, but grow up there he did.   
  
And though working at the workshop strengthened the boy’s body,  
the knives strengthened the boy’s mind.   
Or that was what he told himself when he used them to make himself forget about the reason people smile.   
  
And it worked.  
  
When he looked around at the people around him, people that had grown up too, he noticed there was a new, different look in their eyes that was entirely unfamiliar to him.   
To him they were like animals, parading and presenting. Touching. All the time, they were touching.   
  
The boy didn’t want it.   
  
Until one day, he did.   
  
Every week, though the morning sun was bearing down on the people, they all gathered to talk about the gods.  
The boy had long since given up on gods.   
  
Sleeping in the streets had made him feel forgotten, had made him feel like a pebble on a beach, catching someone’s attention for a minute or two before being tossed aside.   
And then he was drowning.  
  
In the beginning, there were his tears that drowned him.   
In the end, there was his anger.

But after each dark, dark night,   
the sun rose again.  
  
Somehow, after the darkness that drowned him, there was still light and warmth.   
  
The boy never understood how.   
  
But with every rising of the sun, the boy picked himself up off the ground again.   
And as the sun shone down on him, every morning, the boy closed his eyes for a moment, breathed, and let the darkness go.  
  
But one evening, while the boy wanted nothing more from life but calm, he was grabbed by more than one pair of hands.  
  
The boy had worked hard for years.   
It did nothing.  
He felt _everything_ and in the end he was… nothing.  
  
The next morning, with the rising of the sun, there was a warm hand on the boy’s bruised arm.   
  
He sat up quickly, wanting to throw his assailant off, but. There was another boy in front of him, a boy that shone like the sun.

‘What’s your name?’  the boy asked.

‘Andrew,’ he answered him.

He had a feeling he couldn’t _not_ .  
The boy in front of him had eyes like the morning sky, so very blue, and soft looking hair the colour of a sunrise.

‘Who are you?’

There was a soft, warm smile.

‘Haven’t you guessed?’

‘You look like the sun,’ the boy said, then asked, ‘Am I dead? Did life finally kill me?’

The smile disappeared, like the sun behind the clouds, and the boy knew he would do _anything_ to get it back.

‘No,’ said the sunrise. ‘You’re alive. You can still get up.’

‘I don’t… I can’t do this anymore.’

A hand reached out, touched his cheek with just a finger, softly, like a stream of light.

The boy knew about touching, but now he understood.

‘You can,’ the sun answered quietly. ‘I will be there for you every day. I will help you see.’

‘But every night, I’m wasting away,’ the boy said out loud for the first time in his life.

Sadness passed over the other’s face.

‘Andrew,’ he said softly.

The boy reached for the hand,  
and touched someone willingly for the first time.

His hand was held.  
It felt warm.  
In that moment, for once in his life, the boy didn’t feel alone.  
  
‘Stay,’ the boy asked.  
  
In response, the sun lifted their hands, and pressed a warm kiss to the unloved skin.  
  
‘I can’t,’ was the answer.  
  
The boy felt his heart crumble, felt his eyes sting. Felt afraid.  
  
How could he let go of this?  
  
The words rushed out of him.  
  
‘What do you want me to say? What can I say to make you stay?’  
  
The boy who looked like a sunrise smiled sadly, and let go of his hand.   
  
‘Nothing.’  
  
Oh.  
If there was one thing the boy knew, it was nothing.  
  
‘Get to your feet, Andrew,’ the sun said. ‘Take a step forward.’  
  
So the boy did.  
Together with the morning sun he rose, but when he looked around, the other boy was nowhere to be found.

Now when he looked around at the people on the streets, in the square,  
the unfamiliarity was gone too.

The boy _recognised_ the look in their eyes as longing, wanting, happiness.  
As love.

The sun was high in the sky, and the warmth bore down on the boy as he raised his hand slowly.  
The hand that had been kissed and touched.

In the following weeks, whenever the boy sat in the sun, it felt like _that_ kiss. The sun’s warmth was soothing, whispered that he was not alone, that he could take one more step.

But the nights screamed.

And they were harder to survive now.  
Now that the boy knew what it was like to feel so much.  
  
‘I can’t do this anymore,’ the boy said to the sunset.  
  
‘You’ll get up the next morning,’ the sun answered, and the boy turned around in surprise. Both at the presence, but also at the pounding of his formerly unmovable heart.  
  
He ran towards the sun, and the sun opened his arms.  
  
‘Can I-’ the boy asked, but the sun smiled in response and answered, ‘I’m waiting for you.’  
  
There was warmth as the boy felt two arms wrap around him.  
  
‘I missed,’ he said.  
  
‘I know,’ the sunset answered.  
  
A warm kiss was pressed against his forehead, and the boy closed his eyes, _feeling_.  
  
‘I shine for you. Every day,’ the sunset whispered.  
  
‘I know,’ the boy answered.  
  
‘I will help you get up, the next morning.’  
  
The boy looked up into the sky blue eyes and wanted to touch, even though he was already being held.  
  
The sunset smiled warmly at him.  
  
But the night laughed cruelly at him.  
  
Yet the boy remembered the words of the sun, and so the next day, he took painful steps towards the workshop.  
  
The man looked sad as he watched the boy limp.  
  
‘If I had more money, I would-’ the man started, but the boy interrupted him.  
  
‘What’s that?’  
  
On the workshop’s table were two massive, crooked metal pipes.  
  
‘Wings,’ the man said, showing the boy how this invention was going to work.  
  
And while the man saw a secure future if this machine succeeded, a future where he had enough money to adopt, the boy saw his answer.  
  
Getting up in the morning was easier now, and every morning, as the boy let the darkness go, he looked at the sun with longing.

‘They are done,’ the man said finally. ‘Can you put them away?’

The boy did, memorizing where exactly.  
That night, instead of being used, _he_ used the darkness for once to slip into the workshop and steal the wings.

The following morning, as the sun rose,  
the boy put on the wings and did too.

Higher and higher he flew.  
And though he was afraid, he was more afraid of being alone, more afraid of having nothing to live for.

When he passed the clouds, he finally saw the sun.  
Shining for him.

‘I missed,’ the boy said.

The sun smiled sadly.  
‘I know.’  
  
The boy flew closer and closer, reaching out, wanting to touch.  
The sun was already opening his arms.  
  
‘Can I-’ the boy started, and the sun interrupted him with a shy smile, less bright, a little more human. ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’  
  
And so the boy kissed the sun,  
and _burned._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr doesn't work too well with my style, so I tried a different style for this fic.  
> It was fun to try out, for sure :)
> 
> Let me know what you thought, if you want!!  
> And thank you so much for reading <3


	3. I'm going for a swim. Do you wanna join me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people!
> 
> Sorry that I'm updating again.  
> I hope this fluffy piece makes up for it :)
> 
> Enjoy!

  
It’s for the first time in a long while that Neil wakes up to the sound of waves crashing against the shore.  
  
Looking out the floor-length windows doesn’t tell him much. They’ve mostly closed the curtains, and the sliver of light that peeks through isn’t bright.  
  
Reaching hazily for his phone, Neil sees it’s only six in the morning.   
He doesn’t have to get up yet.  
But something makes him push away the thin blankets and step out of bed.

His feet are quiet on the soft carpet as he walks towards his clothes, strewn across the floor, surrounding the bed.   
  
Boxers.  
Jeans.  
White t-shirt.  
  
Neil can’t find his socks anywhere, so he drags their suitcases out from underneath the bed and searches through them.   
  
It’s so quiet,  
the lulling sounds of waves the only constant white noise in the background.   
So even though he’s careful, he makes a lot of sound.  
  
‘Where are you going?’ Andrew asks, voice a little rough from sleep.  
  
Neil grabs a pair of socks and moves back to the bed.   
  
Four white pillows,  
two white blankets,  
one white sheet.  
  
Andrew is drowning in a soft ocean of white.   
His hair, the side that’s cut shorter, sticks up a little.   
  
Neil can’t help the light feeling inside his stomach,   
swirling around like a strong current.   
  
‘I’m going for a swim,’ he says. ‘Do you wanna join me?’

Instead of answering, or questioning his timing,   
Andrew merely throws the blankets to the side and gets out of bed.  
  
Neil’s eyes linger.

There are lines over Andrew’s legs, from being pressed against the mattress, against the sheets.  
There are lines over Andrew’s arms, from when he tried to outlast, tried not to drown.  
There are lines over Andrew’s back, from being grabbed, from being held tightly, Neil’s nails scraping.  
  
Andrew notices his gaze.   
  
Instead of putting on clothes, he walks over to Neil. Hooks a finger inside his collar and pulls him closer.

His brown eyes are searching Neil’s blue ones for answers,  
checking his mental state,  
but when he can find nothing but content and arousal, Andrew presses his hand against Neil’s chest.   
  
‘Later,’ he promises.  
  
≈  
  
Their feet sink away in the sand.   
  
It’s cold, the sand, not yet warmed up from the summer sun.  
  
Neil looks at the sky,   
painted pink and blue and purple.  
  
Like a pretty bruise.  
  
The ones where you hold on because it hurts not to.  
Like the ones on Neil’s thighs.   
  
Pretty bruises.  
They are the words Andrew doesn’t say.  
  
Neil chucks off his shirt when they reach the water, throws it into the sand without looking back. Reaching for his pants, he can see Andrew beside him undressing too.   
He doesn’t look too long.  
  
Instead he takes the first two steps into the water.  
  
‘Neil,’ Andrew calls out.

Neil turns to him.  
Sees the question in Andrew’s eyes.

‘I’m fine,’ Neil says, and smiles when Andrew gives him a deadpan stare at that answer.

Andrew follows him into the water.  
  
It’s cold.  
Goosebumps on his skin.  
Shivering.  
  
Andrew grabs his hand.   
  
It’s warm.  
Rough on his skin.  
Smiling.

Though Andrew doesn’t smile, he follows Neil deeper into the water all the same.

‘I  _can_  swim, you know.’   
  
‘Is that what you’re doing now?’   
  
Neil laughs at the tease, shrugs, then takes a deep breath and dives underwater while still holding Andrew’s hand.  
He tugs him under too.   
Probably only because Andrew lets him, but Neil lets himself think he had the element of surprise.  
  
With a gasp, Neil resurfaces.  
  
In front of him, Andrew shakes his head to fling his wet hair out of his face.  
It looks kind of funny, kind of cute, and Neil laughs.   
Laughs because he’s happy.  
  
Andrew splashes water at him.  
  
Obviously, Neil can’t just let that attack go unpunished.  
  
≈  
  
When they walk back onto the beach, the sun is a little higher in the sky, the pretty colours gone.  
Just a clear blue sky now.  
  
Neil sits down on the sand.  
  
It sticks to his wet skin like blood.  
He stares at it.  
  
‘Neil.’  
  
Neil turns to look at Andrew,  
who’s already looking at him.   
  
He almost wants to not tell because it’s going  _so_  well, and he doesn’t want to ruin it.  
But then his eye falls to Andrew’s bare forearms,   
to the light scars that are like clouds across a sky.  
  
Neil looks up again.  
  
‘I’m fine,’ he says. ‘Just a weird thought.’  
  
Andrew’s silent, giving Neil space to share. 

But he doesn’t.   
No need to dwell on just one thought.  
  
Neil falls back onto the sand, getting it all over his back, arms, and in his hair.   
It feels like sand.   
It’s rough.   
  
‘This is uncomfortable,’ Neil says.  
  
‘Idiot.’

Neil smiles.   
‘What does that say about you?’

Andrew doesn’t answer.   
Instead, he lies down in the sand too, and turns his head to look at Neil.   
  
Their eyes meet,   
and though the ocean’s water is still freezing his body off,   
Neil feels a lot warmer.  
  
He reaches out a cold, sandy hand and touches Andrew’s cheek.  
Then he pushes himself up on his elbow    
and leans over Andrew, staring into his eyes.  
  
Neil gets the urge to tease him a little.  
So he does.  
  
‘I love…’ Neil starts.  
  
Andrew’s eyes narrow in response.   
  
The longer the pause lasts,   
the more impossible it’s getting to stop himself from smiling,   
  
‘...Kissing you,’ Neil finishes with a grin.

‘Then do it,’ Andrew says.

He does.  
Neil leans in,   
and around six thirty in the morning, sand sticking to their bodies,   
kisses Andrew on the beach.

Andrew’s arms wrap around his back, pulling Neil closer.  
Their chests touch.  
The sand scratches and itches.  
  
Frowning, Neil pulls back.  
‘Why do people have sex on the beach? This is just uncomfortable.’

The corner of Andrew’s lips twitches for a split second before it’s gone.  
Before he deadpans,  
‘There goes the romance.’

The word makes Neil’s heart skip a beat.

‘Romance?’ he repeats. ‘What? I can’t be gay, Andrew, I have an Exy career to think about.’

Andrew snorts.  
  
Neil’s heart feels light.  
He’s sure he could float for hours if he was in the water.  
  
‘I can be romantic if you want,’ Neil says.  
  
‘I don’t want-’ Andrew starts, but Neil continues. ‘We can go back to the hotel to wash the sand off each other, get dressed, then walk over the boulevard and get real Italian ice cream. My treat. I’ll even let you pick three flavours.’  
  
Andrew watches him.  
There’s a weird, dazed look in his eyes.  
It’s barely noticeable, but it’s there.  
  
‘Four,’ Andrew says finally, voice blank, not betraying whatever had been in his eyes.

‘Fine.’ Neil laughs, and presses a light kiss to Andrew’s lips. ‘Four flavours.’  
  
They stand up, brush off most of the sand, then grab their clothes and walk back to the hotel.  
  
But before they reach the boulevard,   
Neil looks back one more time.

The beach was a place he’d avoided for years.  
  
But brushing off more sand, because it’s literally  _everywhere_ ,   
Neil doesn’t mind that he’s carrying half the beach with him on his body.  
  
Because Andrew’s hands are there, under the shower, brushing them off too.  
  
≈

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look who suddenly wrote in the present tense.
> 
> I never write in the present tense.  
> Weird.
> 
> ANYWAYS I hope you enjoyed this!!  
> Let me know what you thought, if you want :)


	4. PILLOW FIGHT!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people!
> 
> This. Writing this was just what I needed after writing SUCH ANGST for my bigger andreil fic. Gah. Why do I do those things to myself?
> 
> Anyways, enjoy!

  
‘PILLOW FIGHT!’ Nicky yelled.  
  
Silence.  
Everybody looked at him from their beds.  
Nobody moved.  
  
This didn’t stop Nicky from smacking Kevin over the head with his pillow however.  
  
The look on Kevin’s face, pure bewilderment, was pretty funny.  
Aaron snorted.  
  
‘That felt pretty good,' Nicky said, standing in the middle of the room with a big grin on his face.  
  
Kevin’s face morphed from surprise to the glare he normally reserved for someone spectacularly messing up their play.  
But Nicky seemed unperturbed.  
  
‘If by pillow fight you meant hitting Kevin then I’m all in,’ Neil said.  
  
‘That’s abuse,’ Kevin said.  
  
Nicky grinned and shook his head.  
  
‘It’s revenge.’  
  
‘Like a pillow’s gonna hurt,’ Aaron remarked.  
  
Finally, Andrew looked up too, sitting cross-legged on his bed.  
  
‘That sounds like a challenge.'  
  
Kevin _hmph_ ed.  
‘Like you can hit me.’  
  
Very slowly, so nobody would notice, Neil’s hand crept towards his pillow.  
He saw Aaron do the same and then-  
  
_Smack_ said Aaron’s pillow, hitting Kevin square in the face.  
  
An attack from above was something Kevin apparently hadn’t prepared for.  
Before Aaron could retreat, Kevin’s hand shot out, grabbed the pillow and pulled. With a yell, Aaron lost his balance and nearly toppled out of the top bunk.  
  
But most importantly, he’d lost his pillow, and Kevin now had two.  
  
‘Seeing how you all move during practice, I think I’m safe,’ Kevin said.  
  
Neil narrowed his eyes and decided he was going to be a decoy.  
Jumping from his top bunk, pillow in hand, he motioned for Kevin to join him on the floor if he dared.  
  
Kevin looked unimpressed.  
  
‘Think I’m that stupid?’  
  
‘No, I just think you’re scared,’ Neil taunted.  
  
Glaring, Kevin moved to his feet, holding both pillows tightly.  
  
‘You barely score _on_ the court. You’re not going to hit-’

Before Kevin finished speaking, Neil jumped forward, quickly swinging his pillow at Kevin’s head.  
But Kevin was quick too, and deflected it with a pillow of his own.

‘Now!’ Neil yelled, and, as if they’d done this a hundred times, Aaron and Nicky simultaneously moved forward.  
  
Going low, Nicky aimed for Kevin’s legs, who, in surprise, used only his left pillow in a downward swipe, leaving his right defenseless. With an impressive leap, Aaron snatched the pillow from his hand and immediately took a few steps back, assessing the situation.  
  
Even though Nicky was already swinging his pillow at him, Kevin took the time to glare at Aaron for outsmarting him.  
  
It meant Kevin’s attention wasn’t on Neil at all, so moving as fast as he could, Neil sprinted towards Kevin and swung his pillow. He’d aimed too low however, and Kevin moved to the side, the pillow narrowly missing his chest.

Meanwhile, Nicky, who was swinging his pillow with a battle cry, was too late to change his course after Kevin had moved, and smacked Neil on the shoulder.  
  
Kevin snorted.  
The little shit.  
  
‘Sorry Neil!’ Nicky said, but Neil waved away his words and glared at Kevin.  
  
Kevin met his glare head-on and said with an evil smirk,  
‘Time for the counter attack.’  
  
It didn’t matter that Kevin had only one pillow.  
Using his fast reflexes and intense control, he disabled Nicky with one quick hit to his hands.  
Nicky dropped his pillow with a cry.  
Immediately spinning around, pillow already up in the air, Kevin smacked Aaron against the head before he could dodge.  
  
That only left Neil, who tensed when he noticed Kevin’s attention on him.  
Without thinking, he darted back, trying to climb onto his bed so he’d have the higher ground, but Kevin sprinted after him and tackled Neil to the ground before he’d even reached the ladder.  
  
Struggling with all his might, Neil managed to turn around underneath Kevin, and brought his pillow up with all his strength, hitting Kevin against the shoulder, trying to make him lose his balance and fall off.  
But Kevin sat securely on top of Neil, straddling him in the nasiest way possible, because he was hitting Neil with his pillow over and over again.  
  
‘Admit it!’ Kevin shouted. ‘I won!’  
  
Neil just screamed in anger and frustrating, trashing underneath Kevin, trying to buck him off.  
  
‘This is weirdly sexy,’ Nicky commented.  
  
‘It’s not,’ Aaron said.  
  
When trashing didn’t seem to work, Neil brought his leg up and kicked Kevin hard on the back. Kevin’s breath left him with an _oof_ , and he glared down at Neil, holding off hitting him for a second.  
  
‘You have to admit I’m better,’ Kevin said.  
  
‘ _Never_ ,’ Neil spat back.  
  
Kevin hit him on the shoulder.  
  
‘Don’t be stubborn.’  
  
In response, Neil started kicking Kevin’s back again, causing him to fall forward a little. When Kevin straightened himself, he started attacking Neil again, who brought up his pillow and managed to deflect some of the attacks.  
  
‘Hey, I know,’ Nicky said, barely audible above Neil and Kevin’s shouts. ‘The one who rescues Neil gets to kiss him.’  
  
‘Why would I-’ Aaron started, but Nicky interrupted him with a shout. ‘Let’s go!’  
  
From the corner of his eye, Neil saw Nicky and Aaron charging, pillows out.  
Kevin must’ve seen them too, because he leaned back and quickly swiped his pillow at Nicky and Aaron’s legs. But they both held their ground, though Aaron wobbled a little, then started hitting Kevin on the head.  
  
‘Let Neil go!’ Nicky yelled, eyes closed, hitting whatever he could reach.  
  
Aaron merely grunted from the exercise, his face a little red from all the hard hits he was landing on Kevin’s chest and back.  
  
While they were keeping Kevin busy, Neil resumed his trashing, kicking Kevin, and sometimes in the chaos Nicky or Aaron, whenever he could.  
  
Finally, Kevin’s iron resolve was failing, and he was knocked off balance, his hits now less hard and missing them more often.  
  
Neil grinned and prepared himself for one final surge of energy until he suddenly saw Andrew appear behind Kevin, face blank, pillow raised.  
  
Uh-oh.

With a very loud _smack_ Kevin was knocked on the back of his head.  
He fell forward and off of Neil. Catching himself with his hands, Kevin immediately glared back at Andrew.

‘I was already weakened,’ he said.  
  
Aaron snorted.  
  
‘I know,’ Andrew said boredly. ‘That’s how you win.'  
  
Later, when they were all lying back in bed, the room now dark and silent, Neil quickly climbed down to Andrew’s bunk.  
He saw Andrew was already sitting up in bed, watching him.  
  
‘Do you want your reward?’ Neil whispered.  
  
‘Yes,’ Andrew replied.  
  
Leaning forward, Neil pressed a quick, hot kiss to Andrew’s lips.  
  
‘Thanks for saving me,’ he whispered.  
  
Instead of replying, Andrew grabbed the back of Neil’s neck and pulled him in for another kiss.  
  
‘Guys, go to sleep,’ Kevin said testily. ‘We have training tomorrow.’  
  
Nicky snorted.  
‘Says the guy who totally took this pillow fight way too seriously.’  
  
‘I take life seriously,’ Kevin replied.  
  
Nicky sighed deeply.  
‘We know.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO much for reading guys! <3
> 
> Again, sorry if these are a little rough, I do try to reign in the "MUST MAKE IT A FULL STORY, PERFECTLY WRITTEN" tendency and just drabble like I'm meant to do hihi. 
> 
> Still, I hope it was fun to read!


	5. There was never a choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people!
> 
> Slowly filling up all the prompts. Yes! It feels productive hihi. 
> 
> Enjoy!

He waits for him at the gym.  
Sits down on the benches.  
  
Neil knows this because he always sees him walk in, looking at nothing and no one, standing out in his dark clothes when everything in the gym is so fluorescent bright.  
  
Wiping the sweat off his forehead with his dark grey shirt, Neil finds himself behind on the game, the ball now at the opposite side of the field.   
  
Not for long though.  
He runs, fast, because that’s what he knows.  
  
x  
  
‘Hey Josten,’ one his teammates grunts. ‘What do you do with that emo kid anyway?’ 

It’s none of their business, but Neil knows how high school works.  
  
‘Tutoring,’ he says.  
  
‘Yeah? He retarded or something?’  
  
‘You know, I heard he tried to kill himself!’ another guy shouts through the smelly, sweaty locker room.   
It’s disgusting. Their behaviour, not the locker room. They actually clean that a lot.  
  
Grabbing all his clothes, Neil slams his locker shut and goes into one of the toilet stalls to change.   
  
He hides, silently, because that’s what he knows.  
  
x  
  
He’s still waiting for him when the guys pile out of the gym building.  
Leaning against the brick wall, smoking.  
  
Neil jogs up to him, gym bag slung over his shoulder, his team’s letterman jacket warm against the chilly wind outside.

Behind him, his team mates whistle.  
  
Neil ignores them.  
  
‘Let’s go,’ he says.  
  
Andrew doesn’t look at him,   
but he throws his cigarette on the ground, and crushes it with his combat boot before walking away.  
  
Neil follows Andrew, like he had for the last few months.  
  
x  
  
They enter the science room, because it’s never used after school hours.   
  
At first, Neil wanted to go to the library.   
Andrew didn’t.   
Neil pushed him to go because he couldn’t understand why not, until they sat down in the library and the whispering and jeering and taunting started.   
  
Andrew said it didn’t bother him.   
  
Neil said it was stupid.  
  
Andrew hadn’t contradicted him.   
  
In the end, they hadn’t been able to focus and so they never came back to the library again.  
  
Now, Neil listens to Andrew.  
Except when they don’t agree on the method necessary to solve a problem.   
  
The problem is this: Neil sucks at math.

But he needs to uphold an average to keep playing in the team,   
so his coach called him to his office and told Neil that the weird, loner kid needed a tutor. If Neil would be so kind as to help him out. It would look great on paper too.  
  
It was pretty messed up.  
  
Andrew hadn’t looked surprised however, when it turned out it was Neil who needed a tutor.   
  
‘Why’d you agree to this?’ Neil asked him then.

‘There was never a choice,’ Andrew answered.  
  
x  
  
But now Neil wonders who could make Andrew do anything.   
  
Over the course of these weeks, days, these short hours together, stuffed inside the science room, Neil learns that Andrew is unstoppable. Unforgiving. Unapologetic.  
  
‘I don’t get this,’ Neil says.

Instead of sighing or complaining, Andrew just turns the book and reads the problem.  
  
The problem is this: Neil stares.   
  
Neil stares during these small hours together and sometimes forgets to remember the answers.  
  
But he never forgets to remember Andrew’s exact eye colour,   
the brand of cigarettes he smokes   
and the scars he saw on his arms one day.  
  
‘You need to skip the bullshit,’ Andrew says, startling Neil out of his staring.  
  
‘Sorry-’ Neil immediately says, until he notices Andrew is pointing at something in the book, is in fact talking about the problem Neil doesn’t get.  
  
‘They give you extra information,’ Andrew continues. ‘But you don’t need that to solve the problem.’  
  
The problem is also this: Neil wants to hang out with Andrew outside these tiny hours.  
  
But everything Andrew does, tells people to fuck off.   
  
x  
  
Andrew’s words repeat over and over in his mind the next morning.   
  
_You need to skip the bullshit._   
  
Hands stuffed inside his team’s jacket, Neil thinks about doing just that.   
  
He’s seen how his teammates handle this.   
This elaborate puzzle, with an infinite amount of texts and looks and pushing and pulling.   
The bullshit.   
  
Neil stops short when he sees Andrew, leaning against a tree.   
They’re close to the school, but he’s still smoking.

Neil wants to walk up to him.

‘Josten!’    
  
An arm drops down heavily on Neil’s shoulder.   
It’s one of his bigger teammates, ruffling his hair. There are two girls behind him.

‘Did you see that movie on TV yesterday?’ his teammate asks.

‘I don’t watch TV,’ Neil answers distractedly, wanting to turn to Andrew again.   
  
The girls giggle at that.  
  
‘You’re so different, Neil!’

No, Neil thinks.  
  
‘Want to watch some TV with us?’ The other girl giggles too. ‘Bet we could change your mind.’

It’s then that the school bell rings.  
No, Neil thinks again, as he follows them inside the building.   
  
If he was different,  
he would’ve gone to Andrew.  
  
x  
  
_Skip the bullshit_ Neil tells himself when he sees Andrew walk out the cafeteria, likely to eat his lunch outside so he can smoke. And he’s already following him when his math teacher of all people suddenly blocks his path.  
  
‘Mr. Josten! Glad I could catch you. It’s so hard to get a hold of you alone. Guess that makes sense, with you being the star athlete of the school, huh?’ The teacher laughs, slaps him on the arm in this weird gesture of manliness. Slaps him on the arm, because all it has ever meant to him is being friendly.   
  
Neil doesn’t flinch though.  
  
‘How’s tutoring going?’  
  
‘Great,’ Neil says.

‘ _Excellent_ ! I’ve graded your test from last week and I’m pleased to tell you that you passed with flying colours! Mr. Minyard is lucky to have such a good tutor.’   
  
The man winks at him.  
  
Neil stares back.  
  
His teacher laughs awkwardly, slaps him again, no flinching, then says, ‘You can stop with the tutoring now though. Between you and me…’ And his teacher leans closer. Neil holds his ground. ‘That Minyard kid is never going to get far anyway.’  
  
_They give you extra information._   
  
Neil doesn’t respond, just shakes off his teacher’s hand and follows Andrew outside.  
  
But he can’t find him anywhere.  
  
x  
  
Andrew waits for him at the gym.   
Sits down on the benches.   
  
It’s been like this for months, but sometimes, like _now_ , one of his teammates takes offence.  
  
‘Hey fag!’ the guy shouts. ‘Go wait somewhere else!’  
  
It’s the first time they’re using that word. Neil thought the bullying didn’t reach Andrew at all. But it reaches _him_ .  
  
In two quick steps, Neil’s in front of the douchebag. Punches him.

It’s like he punched them all, because the entire gym grows quiet.

‘That’s offensive, jerk,’ Neil says.

‘What the hell?’ is the response. The rest of the guys don’t move though. They probably know words hurt, bullying is wrong and that kind of shit they tell you every year. It _is_ true. But it’s not how you learn these things when you’re on the other side.  
  
‘If I hear it one more time,’ Neil says. ‘I’m quitting this team.’  
  
Not clever. But he sure skipped the bullshit.  
  
Training resumes, and then they change in the lockerroom, Neil in the stall. When he gets out, one of his nicer teammates walks up to him.  
  
‘It’s, uh, nice of you,’ he says. ‘To not take their bullying. But man, Neil, do you know what you’re doing? That kid’s a psychopath. I heard he killed someone. That he carries knives with him and shit.’  
  
_They give you extra information_.  
  
Neil stares at him.  
  
‘Did you know severe bullying causes kids to commit suicide?’ Neil asks. The other nods awkwardly. ‘That’s just _words_ ,’ Neil says. ‘So really, you don’t need a knife to kill.’  
  
Then, without another word, Neil walks away.  
  
x  
  
‘Let’s go,’ he says to Andrew, who’s not smoking. ‘What happened to your cigarettes?’ Neil asks.

Instead of answering, Andrew starts walking to the school building.  
  
Neil follows.  
  
x  
  
The science room is empty. Most of the chairs are upside down on the tables.   
They grab their stuff from their backpacks in silence, until.  
  
‘Don’t fight for me,’ Andrew says boredly.  
  
‘Nobody fights for you,’ Neil says. Has observed this. ‘Not even you.’  
  
The scars.   
And the not yet scars.  
  
Andrew doesn’t meet his gaze, instead opens their math books and flips to the correct page.  
  
‘My teacher said I don’t have to tutor anymore,’ Neil says, staring at Andrew’s profile, thinking he knows it better than English by now.  
  
Andrew turns a pen over and over in his hands as he looks down at the books in front of them.   
  
‘Do you want-’ Neil starts, then stops. Because this whole  tutoring thing was never for Andrew. Andrew doesn’t need to tutor him. ‘If you could choose-’ he begins again, but Andrew cuts him off.  
  
‘I already told you. There was never a choice.’

Outside, people are laughing and shouting. A ball bounces against tiles. The sun is setting.  
Inside, it’s quiet. The only sound the ticking of the clock.  
  
Skip the bullshit, Neil.  
  
‘I want to hang out with you,’ Neil says. ‘Do you?’  
  
Finally, Andrew looks at him.   
He’s still twiddling the pen between his fingers. It goes very fast, looks kind of nervous or angry. Neil can see it spinning in the corner of his eye.  
  
‘You can be honest,’ Neil says, when the silence lasts so long.  
  
‘I’m not a liar,’ Andrew replies.  
  
Neil stares at him.   
Says, ‘Oh.’  
  
Andrew stares back.   
Says, ‘I don’t get you.’  
  
Neil points to his math book. Andrew doesn’t look away from him however.   
  
‘I don’t get math. But I’m still giving it a go.’  
  
Andrew doesn’t seem impressed.  
  
‘I’m not a math problem.’  
  
Neil grins, knowing the next words out of his mouth are going to be horrible.   
  
‘Will you help me solve you?’  
  
Andrew throws his pen at him.  
  
‘Don’t be cute,’ he says.  
  
‘You think I’m cute?’  
  
For a second, Andrew freezes. There seems to be fear, but then there’s not, and Neil doesn’t what to say.  
  
So he just repeats, ‘I want to hang out with you. Yes or no?’  
  
Andrew replies, ‘I want to kiss you. Yes or no?’  
  
Neil blinks in surprise. Leans back, his mind spinning for a few seconds until it’s not anymore. Because _this_ is skipping the bullshit.  
  
He sees Andrew watching him, with a look in his eyes like he _knows_ this was going to be Neil’s reaction. Like he’s waiting for Neil to fuck off like everyone else did.  
  
‘Was that a lie?’ Neil asks.  
  
‘No.’  
  
‘Oh, good,’ Neil says. ‘Then yes.’   
  
Andrew blinks.   
  
The ticking of the clock is deafening in the silence that follows.  
  
Then, and Neil _swears_ it’s in slow motion, Andrew places his pen on the table and closes their books. He moves his chair closer to Neil, the scraping sound so loud in the quiet classroom.   
  
Their knees touch, bump together, when Andrew turns to him.   
  
Neil is vaguely aware that he’s feeling nervous and excited and that his heart is beating like crazy. He’s vaguely aware that he’s staring at Andrew’s lips.   
  
He’s extremely aware of Andrew licking his lips, swallowing, then leaning forward.  
  
The first touch is almost invisible.  
  
But then Andrew kisses him harder, presses their lips together, kissing Neil unapologetically.

They kiss in the stuffy, empty science room for nearly half an hour, before they both need to catch their breath.   
  
Neil kissed a girl before. He thought. But _now_ he knows what kissing is.  
  
Andrew’s watching him, observing his reaction.  
Neil doesn’t exactly know why. So he asks.  
  
‘Why do you look at me like that?’

When Andrew doesn’t immediately answer, Neil gets distracted. By Andrew’s slightly red cheeks, his definitely redder lips. He wants to kiss them again.  
  
‘I don’t get you,’ Andrew eventually says. Again.  
  
Neil knows the next words out of his mouth are going to be horrible.  
  
‘No, you definitely got me.’  
  
Without a word, Andrew stands up, takes a few steps towards the door then rethinks his decision, turns back and smacks Neil on the head with his math book.   
Then he walks away.  
  
Neil feels like smiling.  
  
x  
  
He waits for him in the gym.  
Sits on the benches.  
  
Not one of Neil’s teammates say a word.  
  
And Neil wants to skip the bullshit, the conversations and talks, so he starts to walk over to Andrew, but Andrew flips him off and says, ‘Whatever you’re thinking. Don’t.’  
  
‘You can’t guess what I’m thinking?’  
  
Andrew glares at him, then stands up and walks out the gym.   
Neil moves to follow him, until one of his teammates yells, ‘Josten! What are you doing?’  
  
Not their business, but Neil knows how high school works.  
He turns to them with a frown.  
  
‘Flirting, I guess.’

They all stare at him in silence.  
Neil laughs and runs after Andrew.

x  
  
Andrew is still waiting for him outside, leaning against the brick wall, smoking.

Neil jogs up to him.  
His gym clothes aren’t enough to protect him against the chilly wind outside.  
  
‘You never answered my question,’ Neil says.

‘If you multiply the-’

‘Not that one,’ Neil interrupts him immediately. ‘Do you want to hang out with me?’

Andrew watches him.  
‘They’re not going to like that.’

‘I’m not asking them,’ Neil says. ‘I’m asking you.’

Andrew blows smoke into his face.  
Takes another drag.  
And another.   
Nerves.  
  
‘We don’t have to kiss,’ Neil says. ‘If you don’t want that.’

Andrew tenses.   
Immediately hides it.  
That, Neil recognizes. Unfortunately.  
  
‘There’s always going to be a choice,’ Neil says quietly.  
  
Dropping the cigarette on the ground, and Neil _swears_ it’s in slow-motion, Andrew crushes it with his boot before taking a step closer to Neil.  
  
They stare at each other for a few moments, Andrew’s gaze heavy, for once not blank.  
Then.  
  
‘Yes.’  
  
x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who ho hoooo high school!au AND present tense.  
> These prompts keep getting wilder and wilder.  
> Someone stop me
> 
> THANK YOU FOR READING <3 <3 
> 
> Let me know what you thought, if you want :)


	6. I can't stand the thought of losing you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people!!
> 
> I took the opportunity to write about something I have never written about, which is the frickle frackle. But no frickles are actually being frackled. So it's really... uh, yeah.
> 
> Enjoy!

‘Are you sure?’  
  
‘If you ask one more fucking time…’  
  
Neil shut up.  
But he was sure the concern in his eyes didn’t.  
He was even more sure when Andrew rolled his eyes and pushed Neil’s face away.  
  
‘Don’t look at me like that.’  
  
There were so many other things to look at right now, so much skin that Neil had seen and touched but never grew tired of. Would never grow tired of.  
  
But he wanted to look into Andrew’s eyes, not at his naked body.  
  
Neil rubbed his thumb slowly over Andrew’s left knee.  
Said, ‘I want this to be good for you.’  
  
This time, Andrew didn’t immediately snap back.  
This time, Andrew tightened his legs around Neil and pulled him down, on top of him.  
Kissed him slowly.  
  
Neil’s nerves got lost in that kiss, and he trailed his hand down, over Andrew’s leg, feeling the tension and the strength,  
and he moved closer until their lower bodies touched. It sent a spark of heat through Neil’s body.  
A spark of heat and-  
concern.  
  
He pulled back.  
  
‘You’ll tell me to stop. Right?’  
  
There was something murderous in Andrew’s gaze.  
Something that sometimes showed when they’d driven for hours and Neil woke up and smiled sleepily at Andrew.  
Showed when Neil knew Andrew was having a bad day, and instead of talking, just sat down beside him and offered him a tub of ice cream.  
  
It was always gone in a flash.  
  
It was the fight Andrew willingly lost.  
Again and again.  
  
‘Yes,’ Andrew answered, the anger gone.  
  
‘I’ll go slow,’ Neil said.  
  
‘Slower than this?’  
  
Despite the nerves, Neil still laughed.  
  
‘Okay, I get it.’  
  
He leaned forward again and pressed kisses all over Andrew’s neck, who shivered in response, and his right hand continued its slow descent over Andrew’s body, making sure to drag his nails over the sensitive skin of his inner thigh.  
  
Andrew’s hand grabbed Neil’s hair and held him close. Neil’s heart was pounding loudly in his chest, partly because he was sort of aroused, mostly because he was nervous.  
  
They’d talked about this.  
Not with so many words.  
But still.  
  
‘We don’t have to-’  
  
Andrew yanked roughly on his hair, pulled his head back.  
His eyes stared into Neil’s.  
  
‘I want this.’  
  
Neil swallowed.  
He did too.  
But the thought of hurting Andrew-  
  
He knew what this meant.  
  
It would be like giving Andrew a knife, asking him to drag it over Neil’s skin.  
There was a chance the knife would press too hard and his skin would  
break  
and he’d bleed and hurt.  
  
He wouldn’t blame Andrew for leaving then.  
  
‘What?’ Andrew asked flatly, eyes observing Neil intensely.  
  
They weren’t words Andrew wanted to hear.  
  
But maybe in this position, lying on their lived-in bed, especially on Sundays when Andrew refused to move before eleven,  
their bodies naked and pressed against each other,  
Andrew’s knees against Neil’s hips,  
Neil’s hand on Andrew’s thigh,  
their eyes on each other,  
Neil knew the words wouldn’t be too much.  
  
‘I don’t want to hurt you. If I do, I wouldn’t blame you for going. But I-’ Neil forced himself to hold Andrew’s gaze. ‘I can’t stand the thought of losing you.’  
  
Andrew was silent.  
Neil watched for the anger, the irritation,  
anything,  
but there was just Andrew’s calm gaze on his.  
  
And then Andrew grabbed Neil’s hands  
and put them on his naked forearms.  
  
Before Neil could say anything, Andrew reached out and touched Neil’s cheek, dragging his fingers over the scars and burns,  
down, down  
down  
over his chest,  
over all the white veins.  
  
In return, Neil splayed his hands slowly, feeling the little bumps in the skin underneath his fingertips.  
  
It wasn’t beautiful, this.  
It wasn’t ugly.  
It was a reminder that they’d both survived worse.  
  
Silently, hands still wrapped around Andrew’s arms, Neil leaned in and kissed Andrew,   
whose arms wrapped around his back, forcing Neil to let go.  
But it was only for a second, because Neil immediately wound his hands in Andrew’s hair as they kissed.  
  
Andrew’s arms tightened around him.  
  
It made Neil realize that Andrew had already said the same.  
Knees locking Neil in place, arms holding on, eyes staring back.  
  
It was said in the way Andrew kissed him without stopping.  
  
Suddenly, the bottle of lube was pressed into his hands.  
Right. Not too slow.

Neil leaned back, only because he couldn’t pour it onto his fingers without looking, and rubbed the cold fluid between his fingers. He looked at Andrew, who was watching his hands with an intense focus.  
  
‘I want this too,’ Neil said suddenly. Because maybe he should’ve said this every time Andrew had.  
  
Andrew leveled him with a deadpan stare.  
  
‘Are you sure?’  
  
Despite the nerves, Neil laughed.

x

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I wrote 'It was always gone in a flash.' I got hit by a TRAIN of nostalgic feels whooo
> 
> ANYWAYS. Hope you liked this!! 
> 
> Thanks for reading <3 <3


	7. Why the hell are you bleeding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people!!
> 
> I really wanted to write Neil and Andrew babysitting.  
> That's my excuse.
> 
> Enjoy!

There were toys littered across the floor.  
Toys in all shapes and sizes.  
Some with natural colours, and some with bright, neon colours.  
  
Neil had played with them all, because of Julie’s unrelenting energy.  
  
When Andrew entered the living room late in the evening,  
having to step over several toys,  
he stared in silence at the chaos.  
  
Julie waved enthusiastically at Andrew, then pointed to Neil with a little frown.   
  
‘He hit himself.’  
  
Neil opened his mouth to contradict her but before he could, Andrew said, ‘Why the hell are you bleeding.’  
  
‘Hit himself,’ Julie repeated.  
  
‘I didn’t,’ Neil said.  
  
Julie frowned at him. ‘Daddy says you can’t lie.’  
  
Neil saw the muscles on Andrew’s face tighten. Holding in laughter. Neil rolled his eyes.   
  
‘Fine. I hit myself in the face with the Wii controller.’

Julie nodded. ‘Hit himself.’

‘Let’s find bandages,’ Andrew said.

‘Julie knows!’

Before Neil could ask where the bandages were so he could hide his defeat, Julie quickly ran to Andrew on her little legs and grabbed his finger. She pulled him towards the bathroom.

Neil heard her exclaiming that mommy always left the bandages _there_ , see?  
Meanwhile, he quickly put away the Wii controllers in the basket near the TV, then turned off Just Dance.  
Finally, the annoying music was gone.  
  
Little feet sprinted to Neil as Julie launched herself at his leg.   
  
‘Bandages!’ she exclaimed.

‘Yeah, you can put a bandage on the wound,’ Neil said, and dropped to his knees.   
  
With a frown on her face, Julie tried to unpeel the Frozen bandage but after a few tries, she got impatient and thrust the blue and pink thing at Andrew, who unpeeled it quickly.   
  
Neil had to hold in his smile when Julie walked over to him with a very serious expression on her face, the bandage sticking to her small fingers.   
  
To help her, he brushed his hair away.   
Julie slapped the bandage on his wound.   
  
‘Kiss to make it better,’ she announced, before pressing her lips together and planting a wet kiss on Neil’s head.   
  
Neil scrunched up his face at the feeling.  
  
Andrew snorted.  
Which turned out to be a mistake, because Julie immediately turned around and demanded, ‘Kiss it better!’  
  
A laugh burst from Neil as he watched the silent showdown between Andrew and Julie.   
  
In the end, Julie’s stubbornness won out.  
  
Brushing Neil’s hair back, Andrew leaned down and pressed a kiss against his forehead.   
This kiss lasted a little longer, and was not as wet.  
This kiss made Neil’s chest feel warm   
and comfortable.  
  
Julie clapped in her hands. ‘Better!’ she announced.  
  
‘Hospitals are no longer needed,’ Neil grinned.  
  
Andrew watched him.   
Brushed another strand of hair out of his face.  
  
It felt nice.  
Neil closed his eyes.  
  
‘Now we gotta play house!’ Julie announced, smiling at them like it was her best idea yet.   
  
‘Okay,’ Neil said.   
  
Julie moved to stand on the grey couch, and pointed at herself. ‘I’m the mother.’   
  
She sat down and crossed her legs in a way that told them she expected no bullshit.  
Her little finger pointed at Andrew.  
  
‘You’re the father.’   
  
Neil smiled.  
He could see so much of Dan in Julie. Her no-nonsense attitude.   
  
Then Julie pointed at him, and said in a voice that would later order around a bunch of Exy players,  
‘And you’re our child.’  
  
And  _there_  was something of Matt.  
  
‘Okay,’ Neil said. ‘What am I supposed to do?’  
  
‘Your homework,’ Julie stated, then patted the couch and said to Andrew, ‘Sit next to me husband.’  
  
Neil’s lip nearly started bleeding so hard did he bite down to stop himself from laughing while Andrew sat down next to her.  
  
‘Homework!’ Julie reminded him sharply.  
  
Neil looked around until he found one of her Frozen comics.   
He picked it up, and pretended to do his homework until Julie sighed very loudly.   
  
‘That’s not homework, silly,’ she giggled.  
  
‘Oh,’ Neil said. He thought the pretend game worked like this. ‘Uh. I’m just tired.’  
  
Julie nodded, accepting this immediately. ‘Okay.’  
  
‘Will you read me something before bed?’ Neil asked. He hoped she would want to go to bed too.  
  
But the little finger pointed to Andrew again.

‘Your father will read to you.’

Neil tried.  
He really did.  
But the laugh burst out of him, shoulders shaking, nearly doubling over because the whole situation was just so funny.   
  
He heard Julie laughing with him.

‘Okay, okay,’ Neil said, wiping his eyes. ‘Read to me, Andrew.’

To Andrew’s credit—and Neil’s surprise—Andrew just took the Frozen comic from him and started reading in a bored voice. ‘Snowy surprise.’

Julie giggled in delight and scooted closer, peering over his arm at the book.

‘It’s a nice sunny day…’ Andrew continued. ‘I’d really like to count the snowflakes. Too bad it’s summer. Well. I wish it would snow anyway. Not likely. Look at the sky.’

He’d barely finished the first page when Julie’s eyes were falling shut, head dropping down and sagging back into the couch’s pillows.  
  
‘Maybe we can ask Elsa,’ Andrew read. Neil covered his mouth with his hand to stop himself from laughing out loud and startling Julie. ‘Suddenly. Yay. It’s snowing. We didn’t even have to ask. Thank you. Let’s start counting.’

Quietly, Andrew closed the book and put it away.  
He carefully slid his arms underneath a sleeping Julie and lifted her up.

‘Bedroom?’

Neil quickly moved to his feet and showed him the way.   
They moved silently through the house, Neil pushing open every door one inch at a time.   
  
When Julie was tucked in bed, and sleeping soundly,   
they both fell back on the couch.  
  
Neil slid down in exhaustion. ‘She has so much energy.’

‘Traffic was slow,’ Andrew said by way of apology.  
  
His arm went around the back of the couch, a silent invitation that Neil gladly took.  
Neil put his head on Andrew’s chest.  
  
‘Can you do that… thing?’ he asked tiredly, pointing at his hair, feeling his own eyes begin to close.   
  
Andrew rubbed softly over his head, fingers carding lightly through Neil's hair.  
  
It was the best reward after babysitting all night.  
  
Neil sighed, feeling pleasantly warm and tired.  
  
x  
  
‘Sshhh!!’ Matt hissed, when Dan walked into the living room in her heels. Confused, she took them off.  
  
‘Look at them, Dan!’ Matt whispered, standing in front of the couch.  
  
When Dan joined him, she wondered why she hadn’t guessed what had made Matt’s heart melt.  
  
Andrew and Neil were fast asleep on the couch,  
Neil’s head on Andrew’s chest and their arms around each other.  
  
‘It feels like they’re my children,’ Matt whispered, voice all wobbly.  
  
Dan rubbed over his back. ‘Uhuh,’ she said, smiling.  
  
x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this wasn't poetry but you have to admit that the mental image of Andrew reading in a deadpan voice 'Yay. It's snowing.' really is something beautiful alright.
> 
> Hihi thank you for reading!! <3 
> 
> Let me know what you thought if you want!


	8. I need you to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people!
> 
> So on my way back from Berlin, I had to sit in the car for six hours or so, and I can't write while driving (THE SHAME) but I COULD start thinking about these prompts and how to fill them, so when I got back, and dozed off in the bath for half an hour, I started writing and well here it is. 
> 
> The sentence that is so angsty  
> and I did not make it angsty.
> 
> Enjoy!

Adjust the frame.  
Get some fucking people on your photos.  
Yeah, yeah.  
  
Andrew didn’t particularly like photographing people.  
They were boring and predictable and generally tried too hard whenever he asked them if he could take a picture.   
They were all smiles and best angles and fake, fake, fake.  
  
Boring.  
  
But then his teacher had had enough, and forced him to ‘ _get some fucking people on your photos_.’  
Or else he’d fail the class.  
  
But Andrew’s eyes were always drawn to tall buildings.  
He wanted to photograph the possibility of falling, the height that could kill you, the horrible feeling of weightlessness.

Walking around the park, the sun bore down on him as he tried to find some people, some inspiration, anything that would mean barely passing this assignment so he could go back to trying to photograph _falling_.  
  
And then Andrew saw it.  
  
A statue of a person, but barely filled in, just the iron outlines of what was supposed to be a human.   
  
Andrew took a few steps back. Crouched down and looked at his camera screen so he could position himself a little better, so he could get a photo of a person.

No one said it was supposed to be a _real_ person.  
  
Peering at the screen, Andrew took a test-shot then held his camera up to check if it was good.  
  
It wasn’t.  
  
Because through the outlines, you could see a guy sitting cross-legged on the ground. He was looking up.  
  
Andrew zoomed in.  
  
Looking straight at the camera.  
  
There was no smile on his face.  
The guy just stared at Andrew, via the camera, like he was daring him to take a picture.  
  
Andrew didn’t like the part that followed.  
  
He stood up and walked over to the guy, who’d turned his attention back to the sketchbook on his knees.  
  
‘I need you to leave,’ Andrew said.  
  
The guy put down a few more lines on his paper, his pencil scratching, before looking up at him with an unimpressed expression on his face.  
  
‘Why?’  
  
‘I’m going to take a photo of the statue. You’re in the shot.’  
  
‘So? I’m sketching the statue.’  
  
Andrew looked down at the sketchbook.  
The bare outlines of a person were pressed onto the paper.  
The statue.  
  
‘Are you done?’ Andrew asked.  
  
The other pointed at his sketch.  
  
‘Obviously not. Are  _you_ done?’  
  
‘No,’ Andrew said, tired of playing civil. ‘Get out of my shot.’  
  
The guy pressed the end of his pencil against his chin, like he was thinking,  
but his blue eyes were staring straight at Andrew, still unimpressed as he replied, ‘You’re blocking my sun.’  
  
Oh, so it was his sun now?  
  
For a second or two, Andrew considered the option to just leave.  
Let the guy burn in his sun.  
But the chance of fucking his teacher over with this stupid assignment was too good not to take.  
  
‘Fine,’ Andrew said. ‘Then I need your consent.’  
  
The unimpressed stare changed into surprise.  
  
‘Consent for what?’   
  
Andrew wanted to throw his camera at the guy’s face.  
Instead he said, ‘To take a photo of you.’  
  
‘Nobody’s ever taken a photo of me.’  
  
The words were blurted out, and probably a little too telling, judging by the irritation that showed in blue eyes.  
  
Andrew didn’t like that he kept noticing how blue they were.  
  
‘Sure,’ the guy said, having recovered from whatever internal conflict he was having. ‘You have my consent to get out of my sun and take some pictures of me. Do I need to sign somewhere?’  
  
Passive aggressiveness aside, that actually wasn’t a bad idea.  
  
Andrew nodded.  
The guy ripped out a piece of paper from his sketchbook, and scribbled something on it before handing it to Andrew.  
Andrew noticed scars on the back of his hand, before taking the paper and walking back to the statue.  
  
He unfolded the paper.  
  
_I give permission to be photographed._  
  
Underneath the words was a scrawl. Andrew could make out the words Neil Josten, before immediately squashing the information before it was too late.  
  
It was too late.  
  
As Andrew crouched down again, his knee touching the warm gravel, and started establishing his shot, Neil Josten’s blue eyes pierced straight through the lens into his own.  
  
The urge to look up was too big,  
so Andrew didn’t and took the shot.  
  
Neil Josten didn’t pose at all.  
Just like the first photo, his eyes were staring at the camera.  
Kind of unimpressed, sort of daring.  
Andrew was not impressed.  
  
But he was interested.  
What the fuck.  
  
Neil Josten looked down at his sketchbook again, continued drawing the outline of a person,  
so Andrew focused on getting a good shot.  
  
His first photos were wide, the entire statue clear and center.  
In other words, boring.  
Andrew didn’t feel the little thrill, the breath-catching feeling when he took a photo and knew it was close to _falling_.  
  
He tried different angles.  
Left, right, titled, upside down.  
  
It didn’t feel right.  
  
Meanwhile, the sun was bearing down on the park,  
on Andrew,  
on Neil Josten’s sketch,  
Neil Josten’s auburn hair and his blue, blue, _blue_ eyes.  
  
After a dozen tries, Andrew clicked through his photos. All the way to the first one. The one where Neil was staring straight at the camera.   
  
Andrew’s breath caught.  
  
The blue was sucking him in, was making him _watch_ , was forcing him to pay attention because those eyes said that Neil Josten wasn’t boring.  
  
Irritation made Andrew hold up his camera again. Made him zoom in, until the barest outline of a person was framing the shot  
and Neil Josten, hand flying over the paper as he was sketching, was clear and center.  
  
Fuck this, Andrew thought, and took a photo.   
  
And another.  
  
And then Neil looked up. Stared at the lens, the camera, at Andrew’s attitude.  
Like he was saying _fuck you_.  
  
Breath catching, Andrew took the photo.  
  
When he lowered the camera, Neil Josten was still watching him,  
so Andrew stood up and made his way over.  
  
‘Do you want the photo?’ he asked.  
  
He saw Neil casually put his arm over the sketch.   
Oh, but now he was curious, now he wanted to see.  
  
‘Why would I need a photo of myself?’ Neil said skeptically.  
  
‘Do you want it or not?’  
  
For the first time in the short while that he’d seen Neil, those blue eyes broke eye contact,  
and looked down at the ground in thought.  
  
After a few moments, the answer.  
  
‘Yeah. Sure.’  
  
The words lacked their initial fight, and Andrew wondered if the self hatred explained Neil’s lack of posing and/or smiling.  
  
Taking the piece of paper out of his pocket, Andrew handed it to Neil, who looked at it in confusion.  
  
‘Give me your number or email,’ Andrew said. ‘I’ll send it to you.’  
  
‘I don’t have a phone,’ Neil replied, taking the paper from him and lifting his arm off the sketch.  
  
Andrew looked.   
  
Between the outline of a person  
was another person, crouched down, staring at his camera.  
  
Neil noticed his stare.  
  
‘You were in my shot,’ he said.  
  
‘You were in mine,’ Andrew replied.  
  
Neil handed the piece of paper back.  
The email address was from Andrew’s university.  
  
‘You going to use the picture for something?’ Neil asked.  
  
‘Just class.’  
  
Something seemed to deflate inside Neil.  
It was i- not boring.  
  
The words were out of Andrew’s mouth before he could stop them.   
  
‘What about your sketch?’   
  
Neil looked down at it for a moment.  
  
‘Well, if you get out of my sunlight, I can finish it and submit it to an exhibition.’  
  
Andrew stared at those daringly blue eyes.  
  
Okay, fuck, he was interesting.   
  
Without so much as a goodbye, Andrew walked away from Neil Josten and his unimpressed behaviour,  
his fucking nerve to claim the sun,  
and his blue, blue, blue eyes.  
  
When he was behind his laptop, he took one look at the photo, breath catching, and sent it without editing.   
  
He titled it _falling_.  
  
x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! <3 
> 
> These prompts are so nice and light (usually) to write :) 
> 
> Let me know what you thought if you want! And have a very, very nice day <3


	9. Teach me to fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely people!
> 
> So last night I watched Moulin Rouge, and aside from belting out the Elephant Medley and rolling around on the couch during Roxanne,  
> I cried at the ending. AGAIN.
> 
> And was inspired to write this.
> 
> Enjoy!

‘Don’t be stupid,’ Kevin spat. ‘He’ll never love you.’  
  
Neil shot him an angry look before shrugging on his coat and walking out the door without another word, grabbing the door handle and   
_slamming_    
it closed.  
  
x  
  
The rain was heavy,  
thick, fat drops splattering against Neil’s cheeks as he stalked through the backstreets, keeping his gaze on the grey tiles. Avoiding eyes contact.   
  
Nobody mattered anyway.   
Hadn’t ever.  
Until these past months.  
  
His hand fisted inside his coat pocket, feeling the papers wrinkle and crunch between his fingers.  
His hand knocked loudly on the door, three quick, impatient beats, matching the anxious rhythm of his heart.  
And his hand brushed aside the guard at the door as he walked into the dimly lit hallway and up the stairs.  
  
He didn’t need anyone to tell him where he should go, what he should believe, or what he should say.   
  
The door in front of him was peeling,  
the paint making it look like wood.  
Fake.  
  
Raising his hand, he’d barely knocked once before the door was wrenched open  
and  _he_  was there.   
  
Neil’s breath left him in a rush. ‘Hi,’ he said.   
  
Brown eyes looked not particularly interested to see him.  
But he stepped aside to let Neil pass, to let him into the room.  
  
There were candles burning, the smell of smoke heavy in the air.  
  
To Neil it wasn’t just the smell of candles,  
but the feeling of hands gripping his skin  
of tongues touching  
and burning gazes.  
  
‘I don’t know why you’re back,’ Andrew said, still standing near the door with his back to Neil.  
  
Breaking _—_ No. Tearing away the last pieces of Neil’s heart.  
  
‘You know why,’ Neil said quietly. ‘It’s because I lo _—_ ’  
  
‘Did you bring cash?’    
  
Neil stared at Andrew’s back  
stared at the unforgiving, uncaring black of his shirt.  
He knew,  _he knew_ , it was hiding the feeling flesh underneath.  
  
‘I did,’ he said, taking the stolen notes out of his pocket. ‘But _—_ Andrew _—_ ’  
  
Andrew turned abruptly.  
Walked over to him until they were nearly nose to nose.  
  
In a quick move, Andrew gripped Neil’s wrist—the one holding the money.  
  
‘Okay,’ Andrew said, voice emotionless, face bored. ‘Let’s fuck.’  
  
The words pried into Neil’s chest  
and made a bloody mess as they tore at his fast-beating heart.  
  
‘I don’t want to be your customer anymore,’ Neil said desperately, ‘I don’t want this to be your life. You don’t have to work for—for him, I’ll find an honest job, I’ll make money—’  
  
Andrew put a hand on his chest and pushed him onto the bed. ‘Enough money to buy another whore?’  
  
‘I don’t want to buy you!’   
  
Andrew curled his fingers in the waistband of Neil’s pants  
and _pulled_.  
  
Neil’s buttons flew everywhere,  
like his words  
as he tried again.

‘We’ll move out of the city, find another place to live, somewhere he can’t find you—’  
  
Andrew grabbed two fistfuls of Neil’s shirt  
and  _teared_  
until Neil was naked, utterly naked, beneath him.  
  
Until Neil’s beating heart was all that was left.  
  
‘Don’t be stupid,’ Andrew said. ‘He’ll find me.’  
  
They stared at each other for a few quiet moments,  
the only sounds their heavy breathing and the traffic outside.  
  
Neil reached out and gently placed his hand on the number three on Andrew’s cheek.  
  
‘We’ll find a way—’  
  
‘ _No_ ,’ Andrew said sharply, and slapped his hand away.  
  
He started unbuttoning his own shirt. Neil immediately tried to stop him. ‘You don’t have to be naked, I don’t have to touch your chest.’   
  
Leaning in  _very_  close, their every breath shared, Andrew whispered against his lips, ‘If you don’t touch me… Someone else will.’  
  
Bile rose in Neil’s throat.  
His exposed heart was barely beating, being held together by only a thread.  
  
‘Please, Andrew—’  
  
Instead of answering, Andrew switched their positions, hands grabbing onto Neil so tightly,  
like Neil would move away if he let go.  
  
And then Andrew let go.  
Undid the buttons on his pants.  
  
‘Fuck me,’ he said. ‘Or someone else will.’  
  
The words hurt,  
hurt more  
and more  
and more  
every time they were spoken.  
  
Desperately hurting,  _aching_ , Neil reached out and grabbed hold of Andrew’s wrists.  
Stopping him.  
Holding him close.  
Forcing him.  
  
It all depended on what you wanted to see.  
  
‘I don’t want others touching you,’ Neil confessed. ‘It drives me mad.’  
  
Andrew stared boredly at him,  
before he wrapped his legs around Neil’s back and pushed,  
_pushed_ ,  
their lower bodies together.  
  
Neil shook his head. ‘No. No, Andrew, I don’t want to fuck you.’  
  
‘Then why are you here?’   
  
Asking while already knowing the answer.  
Needing to hear the answer.  
Wanting Neil gone.  
  
It all depended on what you wanted to believe.  
  
‘Because I want to be with you,’ Neil said, his voice breaking in the middle, betraying him, like his heart. ‘I  _love—_ ’  
  
‘I don’t love.’  
  
‘But I do.’  
  
‘If you want to believe you do, if it gets you hard, just keep thinking that,' Andrew drawled.  
  
‘I don’t believe, I kno— _oohh_.’  
  
Andrew rolled his hips again.  
  
Passion  
wanting  
love  
burst through Neil’s body.  
  
One of those three.  
All of them.  
  
It all depended on what you wanted to believe.  
  
‘ _Andrew_ ,’ Neil groaned, body heating up. His hips started moving of their own accord. ‘I don’t— I don’t want to fuck you.’  
  
Andrew leaned in close, dragging his mouth hotly against Neil’s neck. ‘Don’t you?’   
  
Neil gasped  
and closed his eyes.  
  
‘No,’ he breathed.  
  
Andrew leaned back,  
and the loss of Andrew’s touch was almost more than Neil could stand.  
  
‘Then go. Take your money with you.’  
  
‘What? No, that’s for you. My money is for you. Don’t you get it?’ Neil leaned in and brushed his feverish lips, lips that were spilling all his secrets, against Andrew’s neck. Against Andrew's rapidly beating pulse. ‘I want to give _everything_ to you. I want to share everything with you. Even my  _life_.’  
  
Andrew’s breath shuddered.  
From pleasure.  
From wanting.  
From pain.  
  
One of those three.  
Maybe all of them.  
  
It all depended on what Andrew let himself feel.  
   
But even if the words didn’t fall from his lips,  
they pressed down on Neil with every touch of Andrew’s fingertips,  
and the way his legs were holding him close.  
  
Instead of answering, Andrew’s hand travelled down Neil’s chest.   
  
It made Neil’s heartbeat spike,  
but he stopped Andrew’s hand.  
  
‘Don’t you want that too?’ he asked quietly,  
yet his breathing was so hard.  
  
Andrew stared at his own hand.  
At his fingers spread against Neil’s chest.  
Neil gently rubbed his thumb over the back of Andrew’s hand.  
  
‘Do you want me?’  
  
Andrew’s eyes snapped up,  
and the _anger_ ,   
anger that was barely contained in his eyes, in his body, in his life,  
bled out of him like blood  
from wounds others had inflicted.   
  
‘I want your money,’ Andrew answered. ‘Or nothing.’  
  
Neil nodded quickly. ‘I’ll find a job, I will get money, I will make—’  
  
‘No. It won’t be enough.’  
  
With a definite push, Andrew shoved Neil off the bed.  
  
They were both naked.  
Without clothes.  
With all their feelings.  
With the truth.  
  
One of them.  
All three of them.  
  
It all depended on what you thought was most important.  
  
Neil immediately moved to his feet and walked after him.  
  
‘Please, Andrew, teach me to fight,’ he pleaded. ‘Teach me how to fight for you, I want to—’  
  
‘You sound like the others,’ Andrew said, his back once again turned to Neil. Crushing Neil’s heart with his words. ‘Focusing on what _you_ want.’   
  
Neil gasped for breath  
but it was impossible to find enough air to form words.  
  
‘Look around you, Neil. The sheets on the bed are not real silk. They're fake. And the walls look like real wood. But they’re also fake. So what do you think your love is in this room?’  
  
‘I-I—’ Neil gasped, choking on the desperate, desolate air, staring at Andrew’s naked back, the scars and feelings spread out for him to see.  
  
‘Fake,’ Andrew said.  
Lied.  
Believed.  
  
One of those.  
Maybe all three.  
  
It all depended on how much Andrew wanted to  _hurt_.  
  
‘Go,’ Andrew said. ‘Take your money. Build a life somewhere real.’  
  
‘You’re—’  
  
‘I’m going to call the guards if you don’t leave.'  
  
Even Neil couldn’t fight off five guards.  
He couldn’t afford to piss off one mafia leader.  
He couldn’t  
stay.  
  
He quickly changed back into his clothes, then walked over to Andrew, who was still standing with his back to Neil, eyes trained on the fake wooden wall.  
  
‘Can I touch you?’ Neil asked quietly.  
  
The answer took a long,  
long,  
long time.  
  
‘Yes.’  
  
Neil put his hand on Andrew’s shoulder  
and slid it down the front, over his chest,  
until it rested over Andrew’s heart.  
  
It pounded frantically underneath his palm.  
  
‘They say you can tell if someone is lying,’ Neil said softly, ‘by listening to their heartbeat.’  
  
Andrew didn’t answer.  
And Neil didn’t move his hand.  
  
‘Do you want me to go?’  
  
_Ba-dum._  
  
‘Yes.’  
  
Neil walked  
over the discarded dollar bills on the floor  
when he left.  
  
_Don’t be stupid.  
  
He’ll never love you._  
  
x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it was something? 
> 
> These prompts are always a gamble. But they're fun to write.
> 
> Let me know what you thought if you want!! :)


End file.
